PS 3525 
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1905 







Class"BS35£^ 
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Copyright ]^«_19M. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr 




ELIZA L. M. MULCAHY. 



Hianh^matta'B JJropIy^nj 




AND— = = 

FRAGMENIS 
IN VERSE 

lEltza IC. M. iKulralyg 






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DBRARV of C0N-3fi!£SS 
Two Copies rteceiveti 

JUN 16 1 905 

COPY B. 



Copyrighted 1905 
By ELIZA L. M. MULCAHY. 



JOHN MURPHY CO. 

PRINTERS 

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND 



^ Vv andewana's Prophecy 

...AND... 

^ Fragments in Verse 

>^ REVISION AND ENLARGEMENT OF 

WANDEWANA'S PROPHECY 

...AND... 

OTHER POEMS 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR 



TO MY SONS 
MAX AND FRANK 



Dedication 

To you, dear children, I present, 

This silent work of years, 
The monotone of simple joys 

Unmingled not with tears; 
Not for its mellow meters, 

Nor for rhetoric art, 
But only one poor merit 

Outpouring of the heart. 
And though this simple message, 

No great success attain. 
And serves but to bequeath to you 

A mother without stain, 
Yet, if in years, temptation come 

Among those lines you see, 
One word to soothe or strengthen you. 

It will suffice for me. 



...CONTENTS... 



Page. 

Coming Home 9 

One Hundred 9 

Why Fear to Age 10 

Voyagers 11 

Now . 12 

The Water Fete on Lake Mendota ... 13 

Night on Lake Monona .... 15 

Commune Bonum 16 

We Are Ourselves 17 

The Crucifixion ...... 19 

Infinity 20 

The Calumniator 21 

Arbor Day at Madison .... 22 

Autography Lines 24 

June 25 

A Thanksgiving Revery .... 26 

What is Love 27 

Aftermath 29 

To a Dried Rose 30 



Page. 

An Acrostic-City Life . ". , ' . 31 

Friendship 31 

A Fragment 32 

The Man of All Men 32 

Just Be Yourself to Me ... . 33 

Memories 34 

A Battle of Hearts 35 

My King 36 

Uses of Adversity 37 

My Chrysanthemum 37 

To a Rose 38 

A Gentian 39 

Frost 40 

Woman's Mask 40 

Insomnia 41 

Patience . 42 

Spring 45 

Only a Private 46 

America's Greeting to Ireland ... 49 

My Dream 51 

My Lady 52 

Home 53 

New Year 54 

Plea for Philipinos 55 

Sorrow 56 

Wandewana's Prophecy .... 61 



FRAGMENTS IN VERSE 



Coming Home. 



Two anxious little boys at eve 

Intently watch adown the street, 
And madly rush papa to meet, 

When he his work does leave. 

Papa forgets his tired state 

At sight of either joyous face, 
And boyish joins them in a race 

To reach the garden gate. 

And as I watch them from the door 

Methinks, Ah, thus may Angels come 
With joy to waft our spirits home 

When earthly toil is o'er. 

One Hundred. 

"Mamma, Mammam," he softly said, 
And I turned attentive eye, 

On the happy face and beaming glance 
Of my little one standing by. 

"I stood a hundred today, dear, 
If the lesson did learn so slow; 

But I just stayed in at recess, dear. 
When the teacher said I might go." 



Fragments in Verse 

"Twas kindo' hard to listen 

To the others out at play, 
But I said I'd stand a hundred, 

And I did it, you see today." 

"Look here now, little mama, 
'Tis down in black and white. 

For Teacher marked it perfect 
To show to you to-night" 

I clasp my darling to me, 

And kissed the sun-tanned cheek, 
And thought you've taught a lesson 

With your prattle so mild and meek. 

That we all are only children 

In school, at times, is plain. 
And must leave to others pleasure, 

While we grasp for ourselves the pain. 

And o'er this hard-learned lesson 
We struggle with all our might 

That we may stand "one hundred" 
In our heavenly home at night. 

Why Fear To Age? 

Oh ! why should we fear as the days advance, 

Oh, why should we fear to age, 
And reluctantly turn the leaves of life 

To glance at another page ? 

Though the babes we've fondled on breast and 
crib. 

Be grown to man's estate. 
With flashing eye and brawny arm, 

Ambition strong and great ? 

10 



Fragments in Verse 

Is the kiss of the manly boy less dear, 

Because of the fuzzy lip, 
Or his strengthening arm's caress less warm, 

Than the baby's finger-tips ? 

And the hands we've clasped when last we met, 

In fervor with both our own, 
When we meet again, what matter it then, 

If both have older grown ? 

In the diurnal round if no stain be foimd, 
On aught of the leaves we've pressed, 

Though blotted by tears through the varying 
years 
If in all we have done our best. 

If we trust to Him who dictates each page, 

Why fear for the diary given, 
For the preface started in Babyland, 

Will have finis writ in Heaven. 

Voyagers. 

Each home is a vessel on life's rough tide. 
Just one of the great flotilla's pride. 

And manned by captain, crew, and mate, 
With God as pilot protectorate. 

Then why do we worry, or fume, and fret. 
But let each day's task the next beget. 

We know not the means, nor how, nor where. 
We cross the bar to the unknown There. 

We only know that each moment given, 

Is but brief respite from that unknown haven. 

11 



Fragments in Verse 

The way may be long ere anchor's cast. 
Or the next faint breath may be our last. 

Our august Pilot has placed no sign 
Where nature's craft sees realms divine. 

We only know He points the way, 
Who follows never can go astray. 

Though rough the way, and storms assail, 
The hand at the helm must never fail. 

Though rocks loom up where the way seemed clear, 
The Pilot still points the way to steer. 

Though billows roll o'er the narrow way, 
'Tis He whom the ocean waves obey. 

Then work with heart, and hand, and brain, 
That each its separate place maintain. 

Together forward, as hand in hand. 
That none be lost or contrabrand. 

Now. 

Live in the present, so when backward cast 
Each day succeeding shameth not the last 
For every present maketh all the past. 
Be firm today nor suffer any lost 
Of virtue gained, beneath whatever cross 
For all the past is but today that was. 
And all the present will be yesterdays 
When all that now is, will have past away 
Though passing fleetly will have passed for aye. 
Then build today e'en though it cause you pain, 
The passing moment, —strength will come again. 
Who buildeth firmly; builds what shall remain. 

12 



Fragments in Verse 
The Water Fete on Lake Mendota. 

(U. W. JUBILEE.) 

What ! have the waves turned liquid flame 

Along Mendota's bed 
Emitting streams of liquid light 

And shades of burning red 
As amber flame and purple hue 

From out its surf is shed ? 

Or has some fairy princess ta'en 

Possession for the hour, 
And stole the constellations all 

To deck her festive bower. 
Then chaff the sky that she outshines 

Its scintillating power ? 

It is the Alma Mater 

Who hold high carnival, 
Her joyous transformation 

Of fifty years in all 
Since she on erudition's page 

Her first-born did install. 

Commingling with the din of launch 

And steamer, rower's oar. 
Comes music's milder influence 

Low softly swelling o'er 
To blend with rippling laughter heard 

Along the lamp-lit shore. 

13 



Fragments in Verse 

Now hearken to the college call 
Resounding through the years, 

As each succeeding class arrives 
And each the new-born cheers, 

Then all in Alma Mater's own 
Which each to each endears. 

Mark how the flaming streamers whiz 
High over dome and spire, 

To flash a meteoric blaze, 

The rainbow tints acquire, 

Then mingle with the evening mists 
In beauteous balls of fire. 

How like the wondrous mind of man 
Which pierces space and time 

To grapple with some hidden truth 
Infinite as sublime, 

To leave to future projeny 
In ev'ry age and clime. 

Oh ! grand free Alma Maters, 
Thou gracious gift of God, 

How oft along thy corridors 
Has youth unconscious trod 

To facile mysteries which raise 
From serf to demi-god ! 

Bright youths whose dormant intellect, 

Your living torches fired. 
To deed of glory, burning thought 

Which future age inspired. 
Now blazoned on yon human scroll, 

Free, honored, strong, admired. 

14 



Fragments in Verse 

Night on Lake Monona. 

The zephyrs o'er Monona play, 

A softly rippling maze, 
The summer eve has passed away, 

And passed its sultry haze. 
The dew descending o'er the heath, 

Has bathed each bending blade 
The all-perspiring brow of night 

Is cooled and cleanly made. 
Now quenched the last faint gleam that sent, 

From yonder shore its shaft, 
And ceased each soft'ning melody 

The evening breezes quaft. 

Oh! restless dreamer on the pier. 

What led you forth alone, 
To woo the muse of poesy 

From off her mystic throne ? 
jHas genius disillusioned still, 

Impelled you to the scene 
To drape in rhyme yon scintillant dome, 

Or rim of rugose sheen. 
The lake its mirrored counterpart? 

Ah! then no runes design, 
For human pen can ne'er essay 

To picture the divine. 

But no! a restless nature's voice, 

Has called him forth, I wean, 
He begged of nature cast her chorus 

Him and himself between, 
And as he sits and idly views, 

Her beauties still in gloom, 

15 



Fragments in Verse 

Fair Luna, peeping out the sxirf, 

The rident waves relume ; 
Then ever brightening on she climbs, 

And glances through the wold. 
Nor knows the view is beauteous through. 

Her beauties which unfold. 

Nor pauses yet, but rolling on, 

Her incandescent flight 
Toward the zenith— reached at last, 

Emblazons all the night. 
Her darting beams, like myriad pens, 

Like pens in lightning dipped, 
Each broken spar and rocky bank 

And rugged pier has tipped. 
Then soothed as by a wizard spell 

Peace o'er the dreamer stole. 
Like the light of life eternal 

On a world-wearied soul. 

Commune Bonum. 

Once more the ballot sentry cries 

"For Temperance" all 

Obey the call 
Prevent drink's human sacrifice. 

The friends of liquor traffic bring 

Their poisoned casque 

With smiling mask 
To tempt the taste, in youth's fair spring, 

But ere its evil mission done 

Wage still the fight 

With holy might 
E'en if the effort save but one. 

16 



Fragments in Verse 

Press on, still working for the right 

Nor ever fear 

The weak compeer 
Who vacillating thee affright. 

Hide not one pure God-given thought, 

Nor ever quail 

Though throngs assail 
That strength within thee wrought. 

Fear not though calumny may leer. 

With slanderous tongue, 

When all is done, 
The truth will still appear. 

Courage! the battle of the few 
May yet succeed 
"Gainst wrong and greed. 

Unto the best be true. 

Press on! ye forces of the just 

Who e'er remained 

Through all unstained 
Faithful to God's sacred trust. 

We Are Ourselves. 

I have my faults as you have yours, 
And each and every one ; 

There never yet lived paragon 
Could say that he had none. 

Then why consult an oracle 
To cure us of ourselves ; 

That inner super-human you 

And me, which mutely delves. 

17 



Fragments in Verse 

So all unconsciously away 

Against all outer strife ; 
Though we may thwart its busy hand 

Each day and hour of life. 

It still keeps delving, delving on 

Nor human power can stay ; 
For He who wrought it e'er we knew, 

Did His own will obey. 

And though He gave us strength to shield 

Whate'er He chose at times, 
He ne'er has deigned e'en o'er omrselves 

To give His power sublime. 

So you are you and I am I 

An abstract spirit each, 
A something indefinable 

Which paltry self can't reach. 

Then let us bear our little faults, 

And each with each forbear ; 
Since I must still be what I am. 

And you your own co-heir. 

Though parry with our human steel 

That self how e'er we will. 
There's something far beyond its reach 

Which thwarts all human skill. 

And darts and glances and propels 

Us on, and will appeal 
You to the compromising throng 

I narrow, righteous weal. 

18 



Fragments in Verse 

You who can reach the many may 
Do far more good than I ; 

But if I do my little mite 
It must be still as I. 

Then each to better self be true, 
And He who made us all, 

Will perfect in us what He see 
Will do His work withal. 



The Crucifixion. 

"Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" 
Oh! wild, the rabble cries, 
The man of sorrow stands alone, 
With meek and downcast eyes. 

"What evil," sayeth Pilate, 
"What evil hath He done? 

But still, O! crucify Him," 
Commanded every one. 

And weakly Pilate answereth: 
"I wash my hands of stain, 

But you may crucify Him, 
His blood on you remain." 

But one, the wife of Pilate, 

The heavenly features scan, — 

Thus pleaded : "Take not, Pilate, 
The life of that just man." 

But jeering, on they goaded Him 

To sacrifice, that Son, 
Who in submission meekly prayed, 

"Father, Thy will be done." 

19 



Fragments in Verse 

Oh! Pilate, would that water 
Could wash away that stain, 

Which panders to the multitude 
For earthly praise or gain. 

Speak not of manly valor, 

Nor woman's weakness mourn, 

One humble, praying woman there, 
Had braved the rabble's scorn. 



Infinity. 



I saw a meteor through the sky 

Dart into space, nor could descry 

Its source ; nor whence, not where it sped, 

A spark, a stream of light— 'twas fled. 

How like a human life, it seemed 
Spark of the soul, forced on, careened 
In mid eternity to shine 
One moment, in the next decline. 

Each one that passing moment may 
Do much, but instinct will obey 
What e'er he do, what e'er his skill, 
'Twill bow before Infinite will. 

Though all may argue, none can know 
Whence came that spark, nor where 'twill go. 
Infinite souls did ne'er essay 
To turn, that secret to betray. 

20 



Fragments in Verse 

Infinity alone explains 
By each sesame it sustains. 
Reincarnation from the sod 
By one, supreme infinite God. 

So may our souls, like yon pure star, 
Unsullied still, glide on afar 
O'er Earth's dim labyrinthian line 
Still trusting in His love divine. 



The Calumniator. 

He slides below the level 

Of all that's true and grand. 

And pure in human nature 

Would scatter o'er the land 

His virulent, base slaver 
Of calumny unbanned. 

Tis he would taint the sacred bond 

Within the home divine ; 
Would tear God-given mother love 

Away from childhood's shrine 
And break the seal which God has set 

On married life's combine. 

The sacred dead he never knew 

And white angelic age, 
E'en innocence of infancy 

Is not exempt the rage. 
His lawless driveling, poisoned tongue 

His only heritage. 



Fragments in Verse 

His evil mind sees naught that's good 
In sainted maid or youth, 

He judges all as base as he- 
Would sully all in sooth, 

This vile degenerate of earth, 

With sacked and pointed tooth. 

He would ingratiate himself 

With those he e'en would sting, 

He mumbles what he fears to speak; 
This pestilential thing 

Which squirms before the light of truth 
As time it's records bring. 

Arbor Day At Madison. 

Written by request of St. Raphael's Parochial School, 1899. 

Now haste to the woodland, God's beautiful garden, 
And cull from its vastness rich treasures so rare. 

To plant round the shrine of St. Raphael's homage; 
Then watch them with pleasure and tend them 
with care. 

But what shall we choose from this bounteous 
hoarding. 
Our arbor to shelter in sunshine and cold ? 
Shall we choose the proud oak, which takes years 
for its growing ? 
Then lordly it towers so forceful and bold. 

Ah, no, for the oak, though it tower in grandeur. 
Out reaching its arms so brawny, acute 

If transplanted will fall with the force of the storm; 
'Tis strong in the body, but weak at the root. 

22 



Fragments in Verse 

Then here is the poplar whose growth is so rapid, 
Its wood fine and white and its soft polished 
leaves, 

Which dance in the sunshine and glisten in gladness 
It bends to the blizzard and lisps to the breeze. 

Ah, yes, but the poplar appearing so perfect 
In form and feature to untutored eyes, 

Like pleasures we grasp at in random and folly. 
Too rapidly grows and too suddenly dies. 

But show me the elm, which sends forth its branches. 
While into earth's bosom its roots well descend ; 

It grows in the valley beside the pure brooklet, 
The violet and lily its fame will defend. 

It shelters their heads from the heat of the summer. 
And covers them o'er with its leaves from the 
cold; 

It stands not in pride, but in dignity ever ; 
'Tis cautious in storm and never too bold. 

And bring me the maple so peaceful and shady, 
Which grows so symmetrical, rapid and straight ; 

Its pink dress in spring time turns cool green in 
summer ; 
In autumn it gorgeously dresses for state. 

And where is the pine with its evergreen branches. 
Which grows on the hillside and rude rocky steep? 

Environs have taught it of nature's grand lesson 
To bend to the storm and in sympathy weep. 

Ah, then, there's another, the evergreen cedar 
That sheltered our Lady on Lebanon's crest ; 

For strength and endurance and long-living beauty 
Mount Lebanon's cedar out- rivals the rest. 

23 



Fragments in Verse 

Autograph Lines. 

Oh, were my pen a mystic wan 

What e'er it writ were given 
I'd wish thee friends health, wealth and love, 

On earth and bliss in Heaven. 

Beauty fades when youth is past 
Friendship, only friendship lasts. 

Friendliness. 
Accept, dear friend this humble line 

Which friendship's hand has penned, 
'Twill show there's none can ever be 

More friendly than a friend. 

With few fond friends to cherish here 

Oh may we be endowed 
And cull and grasp them e'er they pass 

Distinguished from the crowd. 

Christmastide. 

The gladsome time approaches now 

When ev'ry tongue and pen 
Hozannas sing, the new-born king 
And peace on earth to men. 

To you, dear friend, whose mem'ry e'er 

Unsullied still remains 
Be all the joys of Christmastide 

Exempt from all its pains. 

Oh, on the eve of holy mirth 
With fam'ly gathered 'round the hearth 
In childish prattle, childish glee 
I would not that one thought of me 
Would cast a shadow there. 

24 



Fragments in Verse 

But if one thought of friendship true 

Of love as pure as mine for you 

Could cast one gleam across the way 
Or, light the path o'er which you stray 

In spirit I'd be there, I'd wish the thought to share, 
Or if one thought gave added zest 
Of mirth, or gladness, with the rest 

Then I'd be there Oh ! I'd be there. 

June. 

I break away 

From the clouds of May 

And I bow to the year's high noon ; 
Here's a rose for love 
Wherever you rove 

Just sprung from the heart of June. 
The buds make room 
For the fruits fresh bloom 

There are birdling lutes in tune. 
And I cooly stray 
Nor haste away, 

Melodious, fragrant June. 
The silent rain 
Has waked a train 

Of insect life to croon, 
Who bid me sleep 
While they vigil keep 

Oh, slumberous, listless June. 
But on I move 
Nor crowd, nor shove 

Nor care to pass too soon, 
But here's good cheer 
And the best of the year. 

This banqueting, bountiful June. 

25 



Fragments in Verse 

A Thanksgiving Revery. 

Oh, bare are the trees by the wayside, 

And there in the park and the lawn- 
No more in their great brawny branches 
Are whistling the wild feathered throng. 

The autumn is muffled for winter, 

Reluctantly, though taking flight ; 

And cold, the short day slowly dwindles, 
Half hiding itself in the night. 

The breezes that sweep through the city. 
Have blustered o'er stubble and fen 

And stole through each crevice and cranny. 
To peep at the grain in the bin. 

And rushing along in its glory, 

Through trestle, past spires and domes. 
Are whispering, whispering ever. 

Of friendships, dear friendships and homes. 

Then away, far away in the gloaming, 

The breezes now whisper to me, 
Are homes where are bright happy mothers. 

And fathers with babes on their knees. 

And others where budding young manhood. 
And boyhood, secure from storm 

Of the world, by hearts never weary. 
Are sheltered with love ever warm. 

And others, where all intermingle, 

From boyhood and girlhood to age, 

With those who are nearing the climax. 

And those who have turned the last page. 

26 



Fragments in Verse 

But others — Ah ! sadly they tell it, 

Where sorrow or want, aye, or sin— 

But hearken— they've seen the good angel. 
Of kindness and love enter in. 

Bring sympathy's balm for the sorrow, 
Appease both the hunger and cold, 

Would sweetly admonish the sinner. 
And welcome him back to the fold. 

Then all tell of friendships fraternal. 

Those breezes where'er they have sped, 

And all tell the grandeur of union, 
And whisper that all will be fed. 

Now each one will offer a thanksgiving, 

And all be united as one. 
But hearken— the breezes are singing, 

"The will of the Father be done !" 



What Is Love? 

Oh! what is love ? I asked a youth, 

By keen desire swayed. 
As smarting 'neath its taunting lash 

A siren had betrayed. 

Oh! what is love? he hoarsely said, 
I can not, dare not tell ; 

But for her love (I know not why) , 
I'd pass the gates of hell. 

I turned away unsatisfied. 

For who would dare to brook. 

That passions unimpeded pose. 
And passions burning look. 

27 



Fragments in Verse 

Oh! what is love? I asked the man 

Of middle age and mild, 
He turned and looked so tenderly, 

On the mother of his child. 
And then, "Oh! sir, it is to know 

And care for ev'ry day 
The faithful queen of all my heart 

And be with her for aye. 

Oh! what is love? I asked the sage, 

As o'er his cane he bent, 
And tottering feebly on his way, 

His arm he kindly lent 
To the frail partner of his years— 

What then is love ? To me— 
Why here 'tis shown, when all are gone 

Love's own is still with me. 

Oh! what is love? I asked the saint. 

That word so much abused. 
A line sank in each pallid cheek, 

As silently he mused. 
"Oh! what is love," he deeply said. 

And smothered back a sigh, 
A^oly flame lit up his face 

And kindled in his eye. 

A feeling born of high respect 

And strengthened e'er by sorrow, 
A flame adversity ne'er quenched 

Nor prejudice made narrow ; 
A sweet, exquisite, painful joy, 

A permeating dart, 
Which thrilled and held each thought and hope 

In one pure woman's heart. 

28 



Fragments in Verse 

And did I worlds and worlds retain, 

I'd cast them all aside ; 
Fame, fortune, honors— kindred— all, 

To make that one my bride. 
And yet, and yet, I'd bear the rod 

Of separation's pain. 
"And barter even love itself. 

To shield her from a stain, 
And take my lonely distant way 

Until we meet above, 
United for eternity — 

Oh! surely this is love!" 

Aftermath. 

When the days hegin to hasten 

And some years have flown away 
And among the thining tresses 

Come the first few threads of gray; 
As we stand on life's meridian, 

When we know that morn is past,- 
With our shadow straight before us, 

Just one backward glance we cast 
E'er the scene must fade for ever 

Though we fain would have it last. 
Though we see in retrospective 

Deeds we may not call sublime, 
Views that boast no feats of valor. 

Faults unconquered still, by time,- 
Yet the background of the picture 

Still presents unto our view 
Actions kind and pure and gentle 

Which to ourselves were true. 
Though to many seemed but weakness- 
Righteous to the chosen few. 

29 



Fragments in Verse 

Though some tender cord was severed 

When we struggled to be strong 
And have borne at times in sadness 

Blame unjustly, utter wrong, 
If we then could say, "Forgive them, 

For they know not what they do." 
Plod along alone in silence 

Yet continue firm and true, 
If the picture still present us 

All of this and nothing worse, 
We may still regret morn's passing 

But we'll suffer no remorse. 



To A Dried Rose. 

(A PERPETUAL.) 

Go, beauteous rose, which through the years 

Though pressed and dried, thy tints still keep. 
Go forth to him who yet may yearn 

For love which e'er must feign to sleep. 
But yet, if sorrow's pain be dulled, 

Oh, breathe not thou the sender's name 
Nor whisper all she dare not tell 

Of love's undying ceaseless flame. 

But still, let her whose tender heart 
We both were taught to love, revere, 

(The image of the Virgin) bear 
Thee company, with hope and ch^er 

To teach our stubborn hearts incline 
To hers, pure, loving, divine. 

30 



Fragments in Verse 
An Acrostic — City Life. 

Centuries pass and still the muses 
In their rhymes must e'er confuse us ; 
Tribachs sing at the rustic's shrine, 
Yet metropolis is mine. 

Leave their lays awhile and see 
In their glaring majesty 
Fortune, fame and life combined 
Erudition for the mind. 

Innocence and joyous mirth 
Sit congenial on the hearth. 

Good and bad are always rife ; 
Oust the latter in your strife 
O'er this human sea decide ; 
Dare for right whate'er betide. 

Friendship. 

Only the glance of a bright eye, 

The tender clasp of hand,— 
Though weary years may come and go 

The mem'ry will withstand. 

The kindly word of sympathy 

To one few such has known 
Will live within a lonely heart 

When great events have flown. 

That golden chain which Friendship wrought, 

When days were all too fair. 
Will bind us in fraternal love 

Through sorrow, strife and care. 

31 



Fragments in Verse 
A Fragment. 

E'en after all, if I should be deceived, 

Where I have trusted so implicitly, 

What then ? The over-soul would shed o'er life 

A healing balm of calm serenity 

And resignation to that Higher Mind, 

Nor bear within the spirit one must have 

Who knowing, wrought on my duplicity. 

So would I rather be the one deceived. 

Though trusting ever to a trust that failed, 

Than that one faithful heart should feel regret 

Or pang, from my distrust or infelicity. 

The Man of all Men. 

Oh, give me the man who can stand on his feet ; 
The man, who will work for the morsel he eats. 
The man, whom adversity never has bowed 
He may scoff at the magnate as well the crowd. 

With a mind that can grasp and a will to endure, 
A heart that encircles the rich and the poor; 
Who curries no favors, but knows his own worth. 
And is held by no bonds that will cleave to the earth. 

He's needed in Senate, he's needed in hall 
And there in the work-shop, the most of them all. 
The manor has need of him, so has the shed 
The one he can master, the other bring bread. 

He has soared to the stars and has distanced the sun. 
The lightning has gathered— what has he not done? 
And is he no more ? yes he's heard of each day. 
Where duty demands it, he's still in the fray. 

32 



Fragments in Verse 

And will ever be heard of, as worlds onward glide, 
Neither marked by the menial, nor puffed up with 

pride 
And what shall he not do as centuries roll 
With his coolness of pace, and the strength of his 

soul. 

When sired by centuries whose gifts interlope 
And mothered by future so pregnant of hope, 
With dominion to do, and to dare, and unite; 
With discrimination, ambition, insight. 
We see peaceful nations, all under the sun 
And Heaven and earth intermingled in one. 

So here's to the man that can stand on his feet 
And is willing to work for the morsel he eats. 
The man, whom adversity never has bowed ^ 

He may scoff at the magnate as well the crowd. 

Just be Yourself to Me. 

Give to your wife your sweetest smiles 
Your babes your kisses free. 

Be condescending to the crowd 
But be yourself to me. 

Be loftily in the council hall: 

When compeers there you meet 

Be gently kind at home but be 
Yourself when me you greet. 

Whatever be the cares you feel 

Oh, cast them not aside; 
But be yourself and then I know, 

You found me true and tried. 

3S 



Fragments in Verse 

Cast not the shadow from your brow 

Nor force the latent smile 
To hide the thorn behind the rose 

It would not me beguile. 
There's not one move or look .of thine 

My heart does not detect, 
Though it be veiled with sunny smiles 

If shadow there deflect. 
But ah ! when you the nonce cast off 

The world's mask, I see 
The spirit, and the same dear face 

Is still yourself to me. 

Memories. 

("Thoughts come as pure as light.") 

The wind is hushed and the snow flakes 

Are falling far and fast 

With a soft and soothing cadence 

Like memories of the past 

Which come into the spirit 

And hide for a time the real, 

Or like fancies fly 

Through a leaden sky 

To bask in a bright ideal. 

Thus dreams of the past come o'er me 

Like blessings born above 

And beam with a snowy brilliance 

Of a pure unconscious love 

Which gilded my life, so dreary, 

With a joy it could not name, 

And each fiber filled 

Of the being it thrilled. 

Yet knew not whence it came. 

34 



Fragments in Verse 

Though covering all unsullied, 

A lily white g'arment it lays 

(In folds of fabulous rapture) 

A sweet sympathetic haze ; 

Which melts away like the snow-drift 

And leaves bare the future years; 

So on life's wide stream, 

This dream of a dream 

Is swept away in tears. 



Those tears on life's turbulent river, 

Like pearls imbedded in sands, 

Have sadly sunk to the bottom 

To be gathered by angel hands, 

Then into a diadem woven 

And wrought in purest worth. 

In Heaven is crowned 

With joy profound 

What fate forbade on earth. 



A Battle of Hearts. 

We met one time when each supposed 

The other far away, 
Our voices mingling with the rest 

Our presence there betray; 
My heart first weakened then proceeds 

To face with frosty skill, 
Your heart's fierce icy fusillade 

Against its fortressed will. 

35 



Fragments in Verse 

I saw you move in dignity 

And warmth among your friends, 
Your heart prepare to mine bombard — 

No strength of will unbends. 
At last we meet with formal smile 

And each a visor on 
Of commonplace inquiry — 

The heart's first onset done. 

Then conversation, we avoid 

A glance, nor deign a sigh, 
Until you murmur you must go 

(Your soul leaps to your eye.) 
I take your poor, cold hand in mine. 

And my soul bids you stay. 
Then vanquished heart to heart succumbs; 

But neither won the day. 

My King. 

(IDEAL MANHOOD.) 

Crown him with a halo bright 
Wrought of honor, truth and right, 
Gemmed from sparkling eyes that find 
A reflector in the mind. 

His heart so firm and strong 
That will war with every wrong ; 
Every passion to subdue. 
Loving though, and kind and true. 

Waves the scepter in his hand, 
Like a true Promethian wand ; 
His to elevate mankind 
Rather than their nature bind. 

And his kingdom broad and free, 
Where soe'er he chance to be, 
And where there is wrong to right 
Rolls his voice of thundrous mights 



Fragments in Verse 
Uses Of Adversity. 

Why should we despond when adversity comes 

With its fierce iron hand to defy us. 
And stands in our way when some object we seek ? 

'Tis only, 'tis only to try us. 

It has thwarted one effort to make us more strong ; 

In the next it will raise the cold metal, 
And we pass all unscathed as the flow'ret that 
bends 

To the breeze which but opens its petal. 

Then we see the gold heart which was hid under- 
neath ; 

But this monster with which we contend 
Will aid us to cull from the many we meet 

The one we may truly call friend. 

Not he who is fawning when triumph is ours. 
But he who, when sorrow draws near, 

With smiles for the future may bid us rejoice, 
Or in sympathy weep tear for tear. 

Every obstacle passed, a new beacon will cast 
O'er the future in which we must plod 

To ennoble and elevate all who persist, 
And with patience "Pass under the rod." 

My Chrysanthemum. 

Gentle Chrysanthemum, all aglow 

In the window seat content to grow. 

With your pure white waist o'er your heart of 

gold 
What tale of summer can you unfold ? 

37 



Fragments in Verse 

You tell a tale of hope and trust, 

And love, and faith, so pure and just, 

And patient persistence, through sun and rain 

And vanished pleasures that yet, remain. 

I placed you out with the summer flowers 

Where roses blossom and sunflower towers 

So high above you could scarcely see 

But you said to yourself "I'm content to be. " 

And the hollyhock bowed in her soft pink dress 

To the courtly ash in his lordliness, 

And old dahlia drooped as the breeze went by. 

So you saw them blossom and wither and die. 

Then I took you in when the days grew chill 

And gave you water, to drink your fill 

And placed you there in the warmth and light 

To smile by day and to rest by night. 

Then you shook the dust off your skirt of green, 

And it shone with a luster of brilliant sheen, 

And your pure white waist, you arranged above 

To display a golden heart of love. 

To a Rose. 

Good mom my rose, in sweet repose. 

At the top of the trellis high; 
From your lofty place, 
In princely grace 

You smile as the breeze goes by. 
The evening dew had filled for you 

A cup of nectar sweet. 
And you took the draught 
Which angels quaft 

From the Heavenly host's elite. 

38 



Fragments in Verse • 

The stars did smile on you the while 
As your petals you dare unfold 

To the morning light 

In truth bedight 

Your shining heart of gold. 

But they fade away as hastening day 
With its warmth and sunny cheer 

Has wiped the dew 

From your cheek so true 

Like faith affections tear. 

A Gentian. 

1 roamed through the forest when Autumn winds 
chilled me, 
The leaves fluttered down to the earth cold and 
bare. 
Not a flow'ret could find, where in spring time I 
wandered 
Their ravishing fragrance met me ev'ry where. 

Then I thought how like hope is this changing of 
seasons ; 
Ere we grasp at the springtime comes summer 
anon 
And autumn's short days ; then comes withering 
winter, 
And the blossoms we planted in springtime are 
gone. 

My fancy thus flitted in dreary indulgence 
Of hope e'er deferred, till my eye chanced to see 

By the side of a fallen old tree by the brooklet, 
A gentian's blue fringe ; it had bloomed there for 
me. 

39 



Fragments in Verse 

It stood in its strength, and its fine fringed petals 
Waved back a defiance at frost and cold, 

As it dipped to the clear purling brook its proud 
features, 
Which mirrored its beauty in lineaments bold. 

Then I thought why despond when our Heavenly 
Father 

Reserves for our autumn such treasures as thus. 
For to hope to the last in His wisdom He teaches; 

With Earth's trials o'er comes eternity's bliss. 

Frost. 

At early mom I rose, and lo, 

From out the casement saw below 

The landscape dressed in robe of gray, 

Night's chill white hand, e'en while she slept, 

Had slowly o'er her features crept 

And clothed her while she dreammg lay, 

As if in pity that his power 

Had robbed her of each plant and flower. 

And in the dull gray dawn the pall 
Of frost, lay coldly over all 
The beauties of a summer dead, 
As those whose lives so smoothly flow 
Are crushed beneath some hidden woe 
• Which overwhelms, and hope seems fled ; 
Thus melancholy earth appears 
In silent grief, too deep for tears. 

Woman's Mask. 

You call her distant, cruel, heartless, cold. 
And were she otherwise, a v/oman bold. 
To lay the quivering, pulsate heart-strings bare 
To view, 'twould be but wilely woman's snare 
Your strength to test— receive your with 'ring 

scorn — 
A wanton's portion o'er which to mourn. 

40 



Fragments in Verbs 

But hiding all, behind a marble mask, 

Must 'wait your pleasure, who alone may ask, 

Or sue, or seek— behind that sheltering pride,^ 

Her only safe-guard for the pearl inside. 

You ask her do what you, yourself would blame 

What's weakness in her, would to you be fame. 

Why blame the use of her, one— only shield? 

While with your freedom, all the rest may wield 

Her's modest purity— silent— sublime; 

What in you were gallant, would in her be crime 

You hold the mastery, o'er her world. 

Her banner only, honor, pride unfurled. 

This vanquished once, then all is vanquished. 
While nobly shielded— ah, the portion small, 
She prizes higher, than all wealth and fame— 
Her simple virtue and her own good name 
Hold you enthralled, by this and this alone, 
For though you censure her, you still will own 
Were see aught else, 'twere but passing charms 
Of heated passion, which true love disarms 
But being thus, she's all in all to you, 
A friend, companion, yet a woman true. 

Insomnia. 

Away, away thou phantom dreams ! 

Thou bringst my brain absorbing pain 
Of bliss that only seems. 

And send, oh send oblivious sleep 

To soothe each sense of wild suspense 
If waking be to weep. 

41 



Fragments in Verse 

Sleep with thy cool mesmeric wand, 

Come close my lid though thought forbid. 
Nor break thy magic bond. 

Until beyond its vexing scope ; 

Come kindly bear my ev'ry care 
Beyond life's horoscope. 

Come, sealer of all hopes and fears. 

Thou airy wight, nor take thy flight 
Till mystic morn appears. 

Come, blow thy aromatic breath 

And I'll inhale the scented gale, 
Thou beauteous twin of death. 

Then, when within thine arms I lie, 

Oh cool this brow, teach it to bow 
Its will to the Most High. 

Patience. 

Come and sit with me awhile 

By the wayside on the stile, 
And with cool and pensive eye 
We will watch the world go by, — 
This old weary world go by. 

You and I. 

With its snorting, puffs and smoke. 
And its grime of coal and coke, 
With its train of human freight. 
It must go; it can not wait,— 
No, it must not, can not wait, 

'Twill be late. 

42 



Fragments in Verse 

All the stations must be made, — 
How it labors up that grade, 

Moneyville is the next stop ; 

You can tell it, there's the cop ; 

He is coming from the hop, 

Wary cop. 

What a rustle, what a rush, 

Stand aside, avoid the crush. 
Here are bonnets and silk hats. 
Ermine robes and velvet mats ; 
Yes, the real velvet mats, 

For the cats. 

Bombast is the next in line; 

You can plainly see the sign : 
"All who enter in the best 
Must be sure to show their crest, — 
Show their ancient lineal crest, ' ' 

By request. 

Now it gradually comes down, — 

It must wait at Middletown, 
Here are workers for the State, 
Politicians small and great. 
Who control its mighty gait. 

It must wait. 

Here are workers of all grades. 

In the sciences and the trades ; 

One who tries to rise alone 

Only makes a stepping-stone ; 

He is but a stepping-stone, 

If alone. 



43 



Fragments in Verse 

With his morals few compare, — 

Genius, culture, all are rare ; 
But he's worsted in the race, 
And the recreant takes his place. 
For the masses give him space. 

In that case. 

Thus it seems the live-long day 
Wrong is foremost in the fray, 
Merit never gains its meed. 
Truth is crushed, the false succeed. 
Yes, indeed. 

Downward still, —the grade is steep, 
Set the brakes, or it may leap, 
Catch a glimpse of Drearylane, 
With its sorrow, sickness, pain. 
With its poverty and pain. 

All in vain: 

Now is changed its rate of speed. 
And it must not, can not heed 
Villages of this low class. 
Towns where only poor amass ; 
It is scheduled and alas 

It must pass. 

Ah, well now its made its round. 

And has covered all the ground, 

And is back beside our style. 

Go aboard is it worth while ? 

Is it really worth our while ? 

Wait awhile. 



44 



Fragments in Verse 

Turn the table, face the line, 
Place the headlight, let it shine. 
Look — the one was thought to drop 
Is now nearly at the top — 
Toiling bravely toward the top. 

Will it stop ? 

No, it still must move along, 
God will right each cruel wrong ; 
He still moves the hand of fate. 
Time assures if we but wait, 
If we will with patience wait. 

Let us wait. 

Spring. 

Old Winter's gone and youthful Spring 

In all her gentle grace. 
Comes forth to greet the dull, cold earth 

From out her hiding place. 

With fragrant breath she scents the air, 

And with her fairy wand 
She breaks the fetters of the brook 

Which cruel Winter bound. 

With zephyr hand she sows the seed 

And bids it have no fears ; 
She'll warm it with her sunny smiles 

And water it with tears. 

The birds come forward at her call. 
And with their joyous voice 

Attuned in praise of gentle Spring, 
They make the world rejoice. 

45 



Fragments in Verse 
Only a Private. 

"I'm coming home, 
Dear mother," he wrote, 

"For we're mustered out, you see. 
And it won't be long 
When you clasp this note, 

Till, mother, you may clasp me." 

The widowed mother 
Kissed the words 

Ere she laid the sheet away, 
For the regiment. 
As she had heard. 

Was expected home that day. 

Then to her vision 
Comes so fair, 

A face with laughing eyes. 
And a manly brow, 
With curling hair. 

Though a boyish form she spies. 

But the grief is gone 
Which rent her heart, 

When he proudly marched, and brave 
As his father did. 
And they needs must part. 

When he won a soldiers grave. 

At last she hears 
The whistle sound, 

And the engine onward tears; 
Like a living thing 
It panting bounds 

Proud of the train it bears, 

46 



Fragments in Verse 

All flag bedecked 
It rushes in, 

All trembling with delight; 
'Midst cheers and songs 
And a noisy din 

The soldier boys alight. 

And each one meets 
Some dear loved friend 

In a clinging long embrace- 
But the widow's son— 
Ah, where is he ? 

She scans each joyous face. 

The last has passed, 
She sees him not. 

Ah, where— ah, where is he ? 
Mayhap at home— 
With nerves o'er wrought 

She might have failed to see. 

So hopefully 
She turns away 

To reach her cottage door 
But sees him not— 
He has hid in play; 

She calls him o'er and o'er. 

No answer comes 
Save the solemn sound 

Of her echo, as here and there 
She quickly glides 
With a searching glance, 

To find him everywhere. 

47 



Fragments in Verse 

Foreboding fear 
Replaces joy, 

And she slowly leaves the cot 
To search once more 
For her darling boy, 

The captain now she sought. 

"Your boy? Let's see," 
He pondered long 

As o'er the list he looked. 
"Ah yes, a private, 
Well and strong. 

From Cuba he is booked. 

" I find he reached 
In safety. Key West, 

But ill, quite ill, I learn. 
In a day or two 
I'll make request; — 

Your boy will soon return. 

"Or wait, perhaps 
A comrade here 

Who knows him we may find- 
Ah, yes there's one, 
A comrade dear 

Who tender was and kind. 

"Who nursed him through 
The fever long. 

And heard his latest sigh, 
Call 'Mother, dear 
Ah, mother, dear, 

I'm going home, goodbye.' " 

48 



Fragments in Verse 

The night before 
They left Key West, 

In a trench they laid him there ; 
The only child 
Of the widow who 

Alone her grief must bear. 

Oh you who hear 
The muffled drum, 

While low the colors wave. 
Just drop a tear 
For the privates all 

Who found a nameless grave. 

And soldier boys 
And comrades dear, 

Who tender were and kind. 
Remember then 
The sacrifice 

Of those they left behind. 



America's Greeting to Ireland. 

Oh, sons of Ireland I welcome thee 
From thy beloved home across the sea 
Dear Erin, though you grieve to leave enchained 
What she has lost in losing you, I gained. 
When in my youth I stood in fetters bound, 
I wailed but tyranny heard not the sound 
Till Patrick Henry in a heated breath 
Cried "Give me liberty or give me death ! " 

* 
49 



Fragments in Verse 

Then as we struggled with King George's host. 

Regaining next day what the last day lost. 

How nobly came ye o'er to our relief 

Lending us aid and sharing in our grief. 

Who at Chemung? Your Sullivan so grave 

Did crush the tory and the savage brave, 

And Carroll's pen with a courageous stroke 

Assisted others, who my fetters broke. 

Once more when England would my pride subdue 

Ye come, brave hearts strong hands, yet kind and true. 

Young Crogan at Fort Stevenson was crowned, 
And on Champlane McDonough was renowned: 
Then Patterson began to show his might, 
And twice thereafter battled for the right.— 
When Mexico would dare our linews dispute. 
And then at home when slavery took root. 

And when by pride and power of pelf beguilded 
They would secede, or like a wayward child. 
My southern sons, who by my standard stood, 
When foreign foe would shed their country's blood. 
Let pomp and avarice their minds deprave. 
They would themselves, proud liberty enslave 
And cry: "you shall no more to us dictate 
We shall hereafter claim the rights of state. 

But nobler sons all over this broad land 

Reply "Divided we can never stand" 

And so the war of brothers was begun 

And lasted till the victory was won. 

Among the first the Irish offered aid 

You all remember Meagher's brigade 

Who fought so bravely where the green flag flew, 

Just side by side our own red, white and blue. 

50 



Fragments in Verse 

And need I mention Phil Sheridan's ride? 
To save my honor he would there have died, 
As o'er the bloody and war beaten track 
To victory he led his soldiers back. 
One other name 'twill sadden you to tell, 
The gallant Kearney at Chantilly fell, 
And scores of others whom I need not name 
Have shed their life-blood on the field of fame. 



Though not in war alone have you been tried, 
For ev'ry place of trust you've filled with pride, 
In labor, letters, science, art and song 
And statesmanship.— 'tis needless to prolong 
The list, for wheresoever thrift abound. 
There too my Irish sons shall e're be found. 
For my true sons I claim you now to be; 
Thrice welcome then to this land of the free. 



My Dream. 



I woke with a sob all a tremble 

The feeling I scarce can define 
Of depression and utter dejection; 

As of baffled endeavor, or vain; 
My whole being yearning for something 

A spirit yet kindred to mine 
A something, or some one to trust to, 

And solace this nature of mine. 

My arms enfolded the darkness 

In my anguish I uttered a prayer 
"Oh Father give strength to this weaknes3, 

And hope to this utter despair. 
On Thee then I lay all this burden 

Of nature, so womanish, weak, 
Bear me over this darkness and sorrow. 

Make me humble, submissive and meek. ' 

51 



Fragments in Verse 

Then soothed were my senses, I slumbered 

And dreamed that you came once again, 
And we sat in God's beautiful sunshine— 

My hero— my king among men ! 
In the morning I woke all refreshed 

And knew although severed— apart; 
That God still united our spirits- 

And his love united our hearts. 



My Lady. 



She doesn't care much about physics 

Or Latin, the classics and "sich;" 
She doesn't want poverty's portion 

Nor worries she, aye, to be rich. 
She doesn't care much for the divan. 

And somehow she'd feel out of place 
Decked out in pink silks and fine velvet, 

And diamonds with all, and cream lace. 

She claims not to fly with the angels, 

Their mission is almost too high; 
She fears not the world's brunt of battle. 

And fears she not either to die. 
She never will say she loves labor, 

And yet she will drudge the day through 
To save mother's steps when she's weary. 

And when there is something to do. 

She's neither a saint nor a sinner, 

Just human and natural she; 
She scorns the world affectation. 

Yet humbly she bended the knee 
To ask of her father his blessing. 

When the first pious act* was begun— 
Her love will encircle her brother 

In sorrow and sickness and fun. 

*First communion or Lord's supper. 

52 



Fragments in Verse 

She has temper? Oh, yes, when you try it; 

She'll say you are horrid, or vain; 
She'd drive you away from her presence, 

Then weep lest she'd given you pain. 
And deign e'en to ask your forgiveness, 

Then all her own faults she can see; 
She'll tell you she's cranky and cruel — 

You were not to blame— it was she. 

If sister is ever in trouble 

To her she is welcome to come, 
And the children confide in her ever; 

She plays in their games, works their sums. 
You may always believe what she tells you; 

Her watchword is ever the truth; 
She remains all in all, to her loved ones, 

In shadow and sunshine, in sooth. 



Home. 

Not in hereditary wealth 

Of gilded marble halls 
A'light with splendid chandeliers 

And silken-draped the walls. 

Where fashion decked with jewels rare 
By liveried servants shown 

Pays homage to a social queen 
Does home consist alone. 

But in the cot up-reared by two 
From labor's earnings spared 

Illumined by faith, hope and love 
When joy and grief are shared. 

When from the world's uneven strife 
Disheartened, tired to come 

To wife and child's encircling arms 
There's peace and rest at home. 

53 



Fragments in Verse 



New Year. 

We lay away the old year gray 

With all its joys and tears 
And welcome in a new-bom year 

With latent hopes and fears; 
For all are beggars by the way 

The rich, the poor, the great 
And on conspicuous comers 

His Kingly bouty wait. 

And as his chariot rolls along 

The paved path of time. 
To some he doles out menial things, 

To others things sublime; 
But whatso'er he deigns to bring 

Must e'en accepted be. 
Whether it comes from sorrow's bourne. 

Or from Elysian sea. 

And at his will each one must fill, 

His formal niche of fate, 
The poor may elevated be. 

Or humbled be the great. 
Nor need we think our part to shun. 

Or seek more pleasant bowers. 
But grasp the thorns he flings to us. 

And twine them with the flowers. 



54 



Fragments in Verse 

Plea For Filipinos. 

Why, Regal Mistress of the world! 

Descend you from your throne, 
Where honor, justice, right and creed 

Have placed you for their own? 
Let Russia counsel gore for gain 

And steep her soul in blood. 
Oppress the weak, uphold the strong. 

Her coffers ever flood 
With coin wrung from a noble foe 
Whene'er, howe'er she would. 

But you, God's own appointed queen! 

Of all the brave and true. 
Cast not your laurels at her feet, — 

A nation to subdue. 
The Filipinos want their homes; 

They want their lands, and power 
To govern self in dignity 

Is every people's dower. 
Why seek their sacred rights to thwart 

And why to justice cower? 

Let not the crown which Cuba wrought 

And placed upon your brow, — 
The bond of faith in human kind, — 

Be wrenched from you now. 
For human weal you fought for her. 

For liberty you strove; 
You did not seek her sovereignty,— 

Your conquest was for love. 



55 



Fragments in Verse 

Columbia, call home your troops! 

Across Pacific's main, 
Lay down the sword in loyalty 

To wield the brawn and brain. 
Your statutes need their deepest thought; 

Your prairies need their plow; 
Their strength which quelled the fiercest foe 

With wealth will you endow. 
The Filipinos ask no more 

Than you in time gone by. 
They pleaded for their rights in peace 

And justice says: Comply! 



Sorrow. 

Come, Solitude, enfold me now, 
And bid the silent teardrops flow; 
I'll bow for once before my grief, 
This bursting heart must have relief 
And feel the luxury of woe. 

Then cover sorrow with a pall 
Of smiles for the cold world to view, 
For joy is for the world alone, — 
It cares not for the bitter moan 
Which must be heard by only you. 



56 



"But the light came at last 

And guided his wavering footsteps." 



13attlirmmia*fi Prnplji^ry. 



To the one who suggested the title of this 
little volume, and whose friendship I have 
fver highly prized, I dedicate this its prin- 
cipal poem. 



Wandewana's Prophecy. 

Where the fragrant boughs bend, of the tough- 

fibered cedar 
And the "Father of Waters" runs down to the sea, 
Is the mouth of the "Oisconsin" as it vomits 
The sands it has gorged from each hillside and lea. 
On its high rocky banks, farther north bloomed the 

forest 
Of oak and of maple where bitter-sweet clung 
And around the white ash crept the wild honey- 
suckle, 
Ere his home from the red man European wrung. 

To this forest of yore, in the bloom of his manhood. 
Came a chief, Kewaydin and Annung, his young 

bride, 
He had builded a wigwam of birch and of cedar, 
With his people, the Sacs, that he might reside. 

In the early spring days when the grass is beginning 
To cover the valleys and hills cold and bare. 
When winter will pause in its course with per- 
sistence. 
Though trailing-arbutis perfumes the moist air; 
Ere the daisy uplifts to the sunlight its lashes, 
Or the rose's shy blush greets the dawn's early 

sigh,- 
When the soft zephyr draws from the cloud let the 

tear drop. 
And the thunder's loud voice tells us spring time is 

nigh; 
From across the great river, with pride, Annung 

bore he, 
The daughter of Chief Wandewana the brave, 
Who said "Great Sauk Chief Kewaydin, you're 

worthy 
My bright morning star, your Annung yon shall 

have." 

61 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

"My eyes now so dim, like yours once did brighten, 
And my step, now so slow, like the brown deer was 

fleet. 
And my aim never swerved from the wild bear or 

bison, 
Or, when arrow and sepent said * 'Warriors to meet. ' ' 
Then I, too, like you loved a squaw and I wandered 
From the land of my fathers away to the east, 
And there in the land of your people I found her. 
My bright-eyed Waybimd to be queen of my feast." 

But twelve moons had passed, when the great 

Manito 
To the land of Ponema had taken my squaw, — 
For she gave up her spirit to bring me your Annimg, — 
To the skies it ascended, like great Ishkoodah, 
Other braves in my place would have soon loved 

another. 
But my papoose, Annung, was to me squaw and 

child; 
For the spirit of Wabun encircled her ever, 
And held my heart still with a tenderness wild. 

' 'I have shielded her ever from hunger and hardship ; 

The otter's best skin I would take for her dress. 

And the purest of pearls I could find in the stream- 
let. 

On her moccasin gleamed, or her bosom caressed; 

The most fragrant leaves for her couch I would 
gather. 

Then the buffalo skin made it soft as the down 

Of the duck; and the ermine's fine fur would en- 
fold her. 

And woe to the brave who encounter her frown." 

62 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

But her love has made light all my cares and my 

labor, 
When hungry or footsore from war, or the chase, — 
My pemmican ready, my pipe, and in winter. 
My moccasins dry the out-worn to replace. 
But my time, now, is short and the day is not 

distant, 
When I go to my Wabun, my star of the east; 
She is waiting and calling beyond the dark river. 
In the land of Manito* still queen of my feast. 

"Sometimes comes she nigh in the night when I 

slumber 
And tells me a tale which I fain would not know. 
And I start from my dreams 'tis of Annung, my 

daughter. 
Who 'spite of all efforts shall yet come to woe. 
Nor mine is the fault, nor will be yours hereafter, 
But another, she says, will come far o'er the sea: 
And she sees in the distance, the downfall of forests 
And the home of the red man no more, it will be. ' ' 

"But take now, my son, your fair Annung and 

shield her. 
And I from the Hunting-grounds, happy shall see 
And warn you of danger. Farewell now, my 

daughter, 
My Papoose, my star! All! now given to thee." 

And happy Kewaydin with Annung departed 
With guides, crossed the "Fathers of Waters," 

and through 
The praries and hills and the vales of Wisconsin, 
To its river; the guides then returned to the Sioux. 

'Great Spirit. 

63 



Wandewana's Proehecy 

The river here swerves to the east, then the west- 
ward; 
Its way it has eaten through hillside and rocks, 
As it shimmering slides, like a silvery serpent 
From the great north divide in the land of the locks. 

'Neath a low jutting crag where Kewaydin had left 

it, 
His light birch canoe he had soon drawn forth, 
And lifting so lightly, his bride the fair Annung, 
They entered the craft and he rowed to the north. 

Then with chatter and song did the time pass so 

fleetly, 
On the water did nothing but love intervene 
Till a shadow was cast on its bright glassy surface, 
And glancing above a rude figure was seen. 
"Tis the great Angel Rock," said Kewaydin, when 

questioned 
And told how a chieftain in time long ago 
Was so famed for his beauty, to save him from 

women. 
An angel was sent from the great Manito, 
But even this angel became so enamored 
It forgot its grand mission, though told it to none. 
But the great Manito, who knew all its secrets. 
In his anger had turned this vestal to stone. 
And the chieftain who now so all unprotected. 
Became from that moment regardless of laws 
And from that time henceforth had the brave ever 

taken 
To himself as his own a great number of squaws. * 

*The Indians were polygamists. 

64 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Thus onward they paddled, through deep flowing 

narrows 
And wide sandy shallows, 'twixt shining cUffs 

grand: 
To each of which clung some timewom legend. 
Till the fire on the bank showed the place they must 

land. 

'Twas evening and there, there were many assembled 
To welcome the child of their star of the east. 
And she who herself is bright star of the morning. 
The wedding feast ready is queen of the feast. 

Builded they the largest fire 

Made of fir and pine and hemlock 

Carried far from out the forest; 

Took then punk and hardest flint-rock , 

Rubbed them till the firey sparks caught 
On the beards of pine and hemlock. 

Blazed the fire while they feasted. 

Lighting up the forest dim 
Creeping into every corner, 

Making fairies of each limb. 
Dancing in the flaming flicker 

Here and there with voiceless vim. 

When the wedding feast was over 

All came forward to present 
To the couple in their wigwam 

Many gifts and compliment 
Young Kewaydin, and to welcome 

Annvmg with much merriment. 

65 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Years they lived there with his people, 

All united as a brother; 
She was e'er his guardian angel,— 

Cared he never for another; 
She alone was squaw unto him; 

Of his children, she the mother. 

But among Kewaydin's children 
One a daughter, dearer far 

Was to him, than any other 

Bright was she as morning star, — 

Beautiful as early morning 
When Aurora gleams afar. 

At her birth great Wandewana, 

(Long since dead) to him had come 

In a dream said "This papoosee 

Pain will bring to your Annung; 

Now beyond the 'Big Sea water' * 
From the east our slayers come. ' ' 

She will bear the white man's children. 
She our brethren disunite. 

Love will rend her fair young bosom 
From the red man for the white : 

But her life will have two dawnings 
One in darkness — one of light. 



Lake Superior. 

66 



PART II. 

Kesheahbinoqua was she 

Who grew as did the Unden tree, 

Beneath whose shade she'd rest at noon 

Or, climb to gaze up at the moon 

Whose disc her wondering eye had caught; 

Its face of light and shadow taught 

That yet beyond is something more 

Than man can ever know before 

His spirit soars beyond the earth, 

And comes again diviner birth, 

Or, pondering as from rock to rock 

She bounds; the birds her laughter mock. 

She stands and asks the question, "Why 

Are land and water, trees and sky, 

Why insect, bird and beast abound 

And all that I can see around — 

The sun that shines so bright and clear— 

What made it all ? why am I here ?" 

Yet, she though testing clime and clod 

Knows not, she seeks the living God. 

But thinking thus as thus she felt 

Ere long her savage nature melts; 

She knows that man was made for more 

Than eat and drink and sleep and war, 

And grasping nature's teachings wild 

In flower and plant, this savage child 

Became refined in all its laws; 

So different from the other squaws, 

The cynosure of all their eyes; 

That many a brave soon sought the prize. 

67 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

While others must the ground prepare 
For maize to grow, or fuel bear; 
Or bring the sweet wild rice that grew 
Beside the stream, some warrior true 
Who ne'er before had bent his pride 
Would fondly linger by her side 
To bear the burden, till the soil, 
And gladly share with her the toil. 

As weeks and months and years passed on 
She grew more fair to look upon. 
Their joy, Kesheahbinoqua 
Or, Early Dawn, this bright young squaw. 
Her mother's perfect form and face. 
With all her father's pride and grace. 
And though in love and peace with all. 
Not e'en the bravest could her call 
His own, and pleading proved in vain 
Until Windago, from the plain. 
The Outagamie brave, had drawn 
Attention of the Early Dawn. 

'Twas winter when he came to woo, 
And told how he had waded through 
Deep valleys where the glistening snow 
Had drifted from the hills, where blow 
The winds with such a force, until 
It seemed the valleys it would fill; 
And lingered he until the Sacs 
Had learned from the scouts that tracks 
Were traced where the Menominee 
Had hunted and had blazed a tree. 
Near which they would a village foimd 
Inside the Saukies hunting-ground. 

68 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

'Twas all he wished, to win his love, 
His prowess in the battle prove, 
And urged Kewaydin send a band 
Of warriors forth to save his land. 
And he in war-paint, rings and crest, 
His sharp-edged tomahawk caressed. 
And flint tipped arrow strung to bow, 
Would lead his braves and valor show. 
His stalwart figure, flashing eyes, 
Seeks now, through the admiring eyes. 
Of all around, who o'er him fawn 
But one, shy, modest, Early Dawn. 

And she ? Perhaps a little pride 
Gleamed from her eye, as thus she spied 
(With haughty mien and stately grace) 
Him glide to find her hiding place. 
But when he tells her now he goes 
To battle with her father's foes. 
She cares not that he heeds the call 
And fears not though himself may fall; 
For, like some simple unfledged bird 
(Waits in its nest ere it takes flight, ) 
There naught of passion in her stirred, — 
Her heart awaits its love's true light. 

And on the war path now they go, ' 

Besmeared with paint to meet the foe, 
Kewaydin with his braves go north 
While Windago with his set forth 
Across the hills toward the east, — 
They must surprise them at their feast. 

69 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

But Windago, whose force was fleet, 

Arrived ahead and failed to meet 

Kewaydin, who as now grown old, — 

Moved slowly and with care — though bold, 

And as Windago reached the brow 

Of hill, below where then as now 

The river Fox flows to the Bay, 

He saw in all its fine array 

The valley clothed in purest white, 

And glistening in the sun a sight 

Of envy, it, to any eye. 

White-sheeted lakes serenely lie 

With frozen ripples glistening through 

The frosted limbs of trees that grew 

In wild profusion toward the skies, 

[t seemed fairy paradise: 

And dotted here and there he sees 

As from their tents the grey smoke curled 
They seemed asleep to all the world; 
Wrapped in a flame of sunset gleam 
And those inside how little dream. 
That ne'er again for them shall shine 
That lingering ray— that fiery line— 
For ere the night has spent its glory 
Not one shall live to tell its story. 

So all impatient Windago 

(For honors great he seeks to sow) , 

Can scarce await the midnight hour. 

The sleeping village in his power, 

To lead his braves, so dauntless he. 

And his alone the victory 

Menominees with labor done 

Would feast next day at set of sun, 

Unconscious all of peril near. 

They calmly rest with naught of fear; 

Nor listened, when the war whoop heard. 

But drowsy, thought it some night bird. 

Until it rang beside each tent 

As if infernal regions lent 

Its million serpent sounds so near 

As rattlers ring— aroused to fear. 

70 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

At last the situation grasped 

The least advantage now is passed; 

They wake to find their huts ablaze; 

The shrieks of wives and children daze 

Their senses, tomahawk in hand, 

Rush here and there, their little band. 

Surrounded as they seem to be 

By braves who rush from 'hind each tree: 

Bewildered by the piercing cry 

Of those beloved who e'en would fly, 

But ere their feeble effort made 

A savage grasped his copper blade. 

And sinks it in some tender breast, 

A groan and scalp soon tells the rest 

The scene presented just before 

(A fairy paradise) now bore 

Such as a Dante might portray 

In his "Inferno's," dread display; 

Where suffering souls, who never still. 

Must expiate at Heavens will 

Their earthly crimes at Hade's shrine. 

For all eternity's sad time. 

At last the fight is nearly done 

For Windago the glory won; 

But as he turnes his work to see 

A single brdve Menominee, 

A sprightly chief, springs at his throat 

And bears him dov/n just as a mote 

Is borne by the rustling breezes 

And on his breast is placed his knees— 

But ere the hunting knife descends, 

'Tis wrested by Windago 's friend's 



71 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

His latent strength is brought to bear- 
Takes the Menominee unaware— 
With one quick bound is on his feet, 
And turns again his foe to meet, 
Who all unarmed, unconquered, still 
Supported by his stubborn will, 
With agile blows and flashing eyes 
His adversary he defies; 
Still sparring on the gory snow, 
The knife he wrested from the foe— 
Then all at once his footing lost 
The slippery ground him backward tossed- 
The knife is fallen to the ground 
Out of his reach Windago bounds 
Once more upon his helpless foe— 
Who bares his breast to his fierce blow; 
While still defiant flash his eyes — 
Without one groan, he calmly dies 
By the same knife which he had wrung 
From his opponent— all is done ! 



Kewaydin coming from afar 

Sees all the fire and smoke of war. 

And though he planned to camp that night, 

He presses on to share the fight; 

But when he reaches there at last 

The fight is won the battle past. 

And vain Windago proudly shows 

The rifled huts and murdered foes. 

He wins of course, Kewaydin's praise, 

And all remain for many days 

To celebrate their victory 

With spoils of the Menominee. 

72 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

But well they know this victory 

Is but the breeze upon the sea, 

Which but pretends the angry storm 

That lashes wavelets' weakest form 

Into a boiling seething mass 

Where foaming billowy breakers pass 

Each other in their maddened course 

As bearing down in awful force 

Each thing that dare oppose their might, 

To death, like demons in their flight ! 

For soon Menominee must learn 

Their comrade's fate and fierce must burn 

Their wrath for vengeance toward the foe, 

Who dealt their tribe that cruel blow. 

Kewaydin's insight reaching far. 

He counsels now "prepare for war" 

And to that council fire must go 

The Outagamie Windago, 

His allied force he must portray, 

And does, with eloquence allay 

Kewaydin's fears, they must march forth 

Toward the east, then toward the north, 

And build a fort upon the bay 

So strong, of cedar logs and clay. 

That e'en Menominee's quick brain 

Its cunning might apply in vain, 

A way invent to force them through. 

The allied forces to subdue. 

Now let them follow their designs 
And come with me north to the pines 
Dear reader, to a village where 

73 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Menominee in wild despair 
Bemoans the loss of kindred dear 
(By arrow, tomahawk and spear 
Of Sacs, and outagamie braves.) 

Their loud acclaim quick vengeance craves, 
The myriad frozen lakes hard by 
Hear not the mother's moan or sigh; 
The wind sweeps o'er the crusted snow 
The iron mines lie far below, 
Where man who civilized in power, 
May wield the drill, receive their dower 
Of wealth, to these so all unknown — 
But list, ah list, the maiden's moan; 
Whose lover torn from her embrace 
And doomed no more to see his face; 
Her wail o'er hill and dale ascends 
The murmuring pine but condescends 
Its whispering word of sympathy 
Unto her sad soliloquy. 

At length their grief excites the ire 
Of friend and brother, son and sire; 
The elders finally agree. 
And counsel war most cruelly. 
They know alone they dare not hope 
With the Allies in war to cope. 
And their decision is that they 
Must gather tribes from far way, 
Along the lakes; the Chippewa's 
Pottawattomies, Ottawas; 
With such a force they would surprise 
The foe and crush the proud Allies. 

74 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

So trusty messengers they send 
To all these villages to lend 
Assistance; and with war-paint all, 
The hatchet dig— come at their call; 
Then all the larger boys repair 
Into the forest here and there; 
(The girls also) find the best 
Of birch-bark, cedar twigs they test 
For they must limber be and strong 
To fashion the canoe, so long 
Before the braves can all prepare, 
The women's nimble fingers share 
Their labors, and their birch canoes 
Are ready for the warrior's cruise. 

But there is now another, who 

Unto his calling ever true— 

There, "Black gown" European is he; 

These children of the forest see 

In this pale Jesuit the one, 

Who like his master, hears the moan 

Of sorrow, and in tender tone 

He tells of how One came from on high 

To suffer — on the cross to die— 

For those who were his enemies; 

To expiate their crimes to please 

His Father, lest his holy ire 

Condemn them to eternal fire. 

He leads them to his cabin rude, 

And shares with them its warmth and food, 

And he of France, a refined son, 

With these rude savages is one; 

Their Black gown, brother, angel, he; 

Their ail in Christianity. 

75 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

He tries to teach them hope and trust 
In Him who said "forgive you must 
As oft as seventy times seven, 
That ye yourselves may be forgiven. ' ' 

They listen to each holy word 

Of Christian peace, but yet is stirred 

Their savage nature to its core, 

The argument of Black gown bore 

But little weight against their wrath; 

Their war dance done, they take the path. 

In early springtime toward the bay 

And there one morn at dawn of day, 

(Their canoes o'er the waters sport,) 

With all their might they storm the fort; 

But they are bravely kept at bay. 

The Allies wakeful night and day. 

Though all surrounded, do not try 

To sue for peace till the supply 

Of water fails. Then, on a cord 

A vessel lower, which might afford 

Them drink; but look ! ere it descends 

Menominee his paddle bends 

Toward the poor Allies' new device 

And cuts the deerskin in atrice. 

Then calls with all a savage sneer, 

' 'Come down, and drink ! Why should you fear 

The tribe of the Menominee ? 

Come down, nor be so cowardly ! 

Though Kewaydin and Windago 

On every side for water go 

'Tis vain and now they plainly see. 

They must steal forth, or murdered be. 

76 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

But after long, a seven days' fast, * 
Windago has a dream at last — 
A young man clothed in purest white 
Came to him in the dead of night 
And said "fear not; I come to save 
You all if you but be brave; 
At midnight I shall send a sleep 
Upon your enemies and keep 
Them so securely snoring here 
You may go forward without fear." 
So weary the besieged fled past 
Their sleeping foes, v/ho woke at last 
To find their prey had slyly flown 
And their designs were overthrown. 
Though winter covered all the earth 
When first the Allies started north 
The balmy days of spring had come 
With robin song and partridge drum, 
Ere wearied by their long campaign 
The Sacs their villiage see again; 
And though no scalps their belts adorn. 
They're not of all their honors shorn; 
They're welcomed silently: then all 
For Windago, the hero! call; 
Who ever stern, and fierce and grave, 
Must tell how he the force did save. 
He does, then silently he strolls 
Among the huts, for Dawn he calls — 
Ah, thus it seems the world demands. 
What we most wish evades our hands; 
We're cloyed with all the things we see 
And long for those that cannot be. 

* In any great crisis, the chief fasted seven days, and then his 
dream was taken as an omen. 

77 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Windago questions all around, 
And search is made; at last is found 
Kesheahbinoqua at a cross 
That's set upon a mound of moss, 
And on each arm are trophies hung 
Of beads and wampun, which Annung 
Had placed to beg of Manito 
To save Kewaydin from the foe. 

Kesheahbinoqua relates 
To Windago— whose savage traits 
Seek everywhere an enemy- 
How several days ago that she 
Had heard a call, and later saw 
Two men of wondrous beauty draw 
Near to the elder Sachem's tent, 
And each the pipe of peace present. 

The Sachem called the aged men 

In council, and decided then. 

The elder four go and invite 

The strangers there to spend the night. 

One was a man of great renown, 

He who is known as the " Black gown." 

The other was a pale-faced chief 

She thus described in language brief 

The gentle Jesuit Marquette, 

And his attendant Joliet 

And as she said, the elder four 

Conducted them to the Sachem's door. 

Where he with his attendants stood 

Bare-naked, that the strangers could 

Perceive they were of arms divest 

And feel themselves secure as guests. 

78 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

He welcomed them thus cordially 
Into his home which savagery 
Had beautified with trophies brought 
From far away, as also wrought 
By busy, lithesome, laughing squaws, 
So versed were they in nature's laws. 
The carpets made of skin and all 
The mats of rushes; on the wall 
Were rude designs in colors bright; 
The prowess of some chief in fight. 



Mats for the strangers then were found, 

Near to the center, and around 

The others sat in silent state. 

That they the strangers, might relate 

Their errand to this forest king. 

They tell of their's; his presents bring — 

So great and powerful is he; 

His greatest wish that he may see 

His people live in peace and love 

With these the Sacs, and then to prove 

The truth, their presents they present. 

And with each one a compliment. 

The savage joyfully receives 

And in return his ovm he gives— 

Some wampun, and the calumet 

Of polished stone, he gives Marquette 

To be a sign where e're he goes. 

To make him friends where might be foes. 

And ere the conference is done 

He gives him his adopted son, 

79 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Whom he had captured when a boy 
From the most docile Illinois. 
And the "Black-gown" may in him confide 
To be interpreter and guide. 

The council finished, they proceed 

To feast; the white men, much in need 

Of food, proceeded with azest. 

And of the viands chose the best. 

Four courses to them was set forth; 

The first of Indian meal— a broth 

On hasty pudding— and with that 

Was given them some melted fat 

In earthen pots, the pudding done, 

The master with a horn spoon. 

Quite neatly wrought, fed them and smiled 

As does a mother with her child. 

The next course was of fishes boiled; 

The weary white men, travel soiled, 

With appetite too keen for thought, 

From the same spoon ate what was brought; 

The third a delicacy rare. 

They thought baked dog, but of this fare 

The poor French men refused to eat. 

The last was tender buffalo meat. 

Which they partook with hearty zest. 

And ended then the formal feast. 

These formal ceremonies done. 
The Jesuit tells them how the Son 
Of God, the Father, came on earth. 
To save mankind; tells of his birth 
And leads them on with teaching mild. 
He reached the parent through the child 

80 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

True angel he, with Wisdom fraught. 
They sing the hymns of praise he taught; 
He them inspires with love and awe. 
But none like KE SHE AH RIN OQUA, 
And though she listens far a part 
The words sink deeply in her heart; 
They make her deeper nature yearn 
For higher things; she longs to learn 
Of these new things, but short her joy 
He must go to the Illinois. 

But ere he from the Sacs departs, 

On mission in the Southern parts, 

'Tis she who finds the mound of moss 

To set his symbol, plant the cross. 

In spring time squaws prepare the ground 

For maise, the warriors lie around 

On the green sward, in the warm sun. 

Or hunt and fish, when war is done. 

The children sporting with the dogs, 

Or from the forest bring the logs 

To make the fire, the rice to cook. 

Or, speckled trout bring from the brook; 

But to supply their frugal fare. 

So flees the time, for them no care. 

Majupiwi * the planting moon. 

Is gone and comes the month of June, 

Wajustecasawi t tis said, 

When luscious strawberries are red; 



* May. 
t June. 



81 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

The hunter's wife on some dark night 
Must all unrobe, and in this plight, 
When none can see and her dispraise, 
A circuit round the field of maize 
Must make with matchehota * in hand 
(And dragging) to prevent the land 
From worms and insects, for in fine 
No harm can pass the charmed line. 



Best cloak of an Indian woman. 

82 



PART III. 

With all these superstitions done, 

The tribe's nomadic trip begun. 

So down the river to its bend 

They go, then shortly westward tend; 

There find a lake sunk in a hill, 

As if the cavern it would fill; 

But rise the rocks to beetling height. 

As if to mock this puny mite 

Of water, or preserve unseen 

This glacial cup of nectarine 

From human eye; for all around 

There's ne'er an outlet to be found 

That one might trace it to its bed 

Or learn the source whereof 'tis fed. 

The pine's dark green above the gray 

And crumbling rocks, here can display. 

Old beauteous nature all her charms; 

Peeps forth the fern when sunshine warms 

Its bed of leafy mould the stone. 

Had hoarded yearly, one by one; 

The towering boulders, one might fear 

A finger's touch (as they appear) 

Might send them toppling in the lake. 

And if a nearer view you take. 

The violet 'neath that rocky screen 

In diamond studded dew is seen 

And later climbs the rose to view. 

Its fragrance tells its presence through 

The thickly tangled bed of vines 

And moss and leaves and cones of pines. 



^M! 



Wandev/ana's Prophecy 

While savants quote geology 

And dig for quarts, enough for me 

To see here to the naked eye 

A place where one might dream and sigh 

The heated summer hours away 

Disporting in the lake's pure spray, 

Or, listless, seek some shady nook 

Awhile, with camera or book. 

Ostensibly to sketch or read. 

But in reality proceed 

To dream of times when love was true. 

Some fairy vision brings to view 

A face divine, or if deceived 

He knew it not was not aggrieved 

Each changing vision past him sweep 

With 'wildering wiles he falls asleep. 



And so thus thought Monsieur Pierie, 
A frenchman from across the sea, 
Who, worn with hunting, hungry too. 
The lake he spied and quickly drew 
Near to it, to allay his thirst, 
When such a glorious vision burst 
Upon his sight, as there he spies 
An Indian Maid, whose jetty eyes 
Were gazing in the clear, calm lake; 
A forward step he dare not take 
Lest he dispel the vision, break 
The trance; for thus he thought; 
Her beauty had so on him wrought. 
Up to her waist the water covered, 
While all around like diamonds hovered 



84 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

The spray, as, glistening in the sun 
She dashed it o'er her, then begun 
(And like a mermaid gliding o'er) 
To swim toward the nether shore. 

Pierie, ever a knight so true, 

Behind a boulder slyly drew 

That he might not the maid affright, 

Or, seeming bold, might lose the sight 

Of her forever; so he pressed 

Far out of sight till she was dressed, 

Then leisurely he strode tov/ard 

The place she stood on the green sward. 

Her tunic was of deer skin tanned 

And ornamented with a band 

Of ermine, reaching past the knees, 

"While 'round her slender waist he sees 

A belt of polished pearl-like shells 

Of clams so strung they ring like bells 

And knotted on her side so neat 

And gracefully; her dress complete, 

Her neck and arms and feet are bare 

And each present perfection rare; 

Her straight dark hair hangs to her knee. 

In its profusion, unkept a^nd free. 

Like a dark cloud; the graceful neck 

A string of polished teeth bedeck, 

While round the shapely arms are wound 

In bands, the polished rattles found 

Upon the poisonous rattlesnake 

They caught among these rocks and brake; 

Upon the high, broad brov/ a band 

Of tiny shells wrought by her hand 

On deer-skin, and coquettishly 

85 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Some feathers red and blue, and she, 
So fairly formed, amidst this scene, 
In nature's home, is nature's queen. 

So mused Pierie as he advanced 
To speak to her, but here she chanced 
To raise her eyes, and caught a sight 
Of him among the trees; with fright 
She bounded like a fleet young fawn. 
And Kesheahbinoqua was gone. 

Pierie disconcerted proceeds; 
Like other men with human needs. 
(Though given sometimes to sentiment) 
A hungry heart must not prevent 
One to attend the stomach's weal, 
So he must seek his noon-day meal. 

He clambers over boulders tall 
And crumbling, broken rock so small, 
So that he may the sooner reach 
The plat that's now called Sandy Beach; 
And glancing eastward o'er the scene 
He sees around upon the green, 
A band of Sacs prepared to eat 
Their dinner. One advanced to meet 
Him, and he then presents 
The pipe of peace with compliments 
Of Blackgown. Need I, need I tell. 
That now the Sacs receive him well? 
He's asked to share their midday meal 
And everything to make him feel 
He's welcome here among his friends. 
Is done, and then some time he spends, 

86 



Wandawana's Prophecy 

In language figurative to tell 

Of Blackgown Pare Marquette 

Who fell so, among the Illinois. 

He must return. But great their joy 

To learn he daily better grew, 

And ere the hard moon* would pass through 

The Saukies village at the bend 

Of the Wisconsin they might send 

Their compliments, or go and see 

Their friend; and so he wiled away 

The afternoon was urged to stay, 

And nothing loath, (for yet he saw 

Not Blithe Kesheahbinoqua) . 

Most willing he joined the band 

Of braves disporting on the strand. 

Kesheahbinoqua's mad race 

Had led her on from place to place. 

Till overcome with heat now burn 

Her fair brown cheeks; she must return, 

Or, circle round, that she may reach 

The camp upon the Sandy beach. 

But faint from fright and want of drink 

She drops beside a spring whose brink 

Of mossy covered stone invite 

Her wearied senses, hid from sight 

By bending bush and drooping vine 

The quiet wood and breeze combine 

To lull her fears, and rest is won; 

With action past, thought has begun 

(As all impetuous nature's do) 

Her past position comes to view; 

'December. 

87 



Wandew ANA'S Prophecy 

And resting in the quiet shade 

She thinks why should she be afraid, 

And wonders if she e'er again 

Shall see the pale-face man and then, 

Being hungry cautiously crept out 

Of her seclusion; went about 

Where e'er the ripe strawberries grew; 

Allayed her hunger, and then threw 

Away her fears, and took the trail 

Across the mountain to the vale 

East of the lake, where Sacs camp 

And reaches there before the damp 

Of eve vails all its misty light 

Before the camp-fire's lit for night. 

But drawing near the camping place 

Among the braves she sees the face 

Of him she saw out in the wood, 

As so impassively he stood 

And leaned against a maple tree 

The calumet smoked leisurely. 

The maid could never have defined 

The thousand thoughts that through her mind 

Swept like the clouds before the wind 

Which leave but sunshine all behind. 

Her fears allayed she stands to scan 
Each lineament of the very man. 
Who destined to fulfill the dream 
Of Wandewana; yet no gleam 
Of present light reached to that end; 
He was their brother, guest and friend. 
His education rare, refined. 
Advantages he left behind. 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

liike many a bright impetuous youth 

To seek adventure, that in sooth, 

Successful, true it proved to be 

One looking at him now could see; 

But to the maiden's savage eye, 

He seemed descended from the sky. 

His clothes, though shabby, in their prime. 

Were European of that time; 

His height about the medium build, 

His frank expression quickly filled 

With confidence his new allies. 

While from his sparkling keen black eyes, 

A tender though determined look 

Which showed what e'er he undertook 

He never faltered to the end 

To quell a foe, or help a friend. 

His silken hair of raven black 

So long had grown, pushed smoothly back, 

Hung to his shoulders, and the white. 

Soft hand would ne'er betray the might 

The sinewy arm still possessed 

In time of need if sorely pressed. 

As Kesheshbinoqua mused 
She caught his eye — ^was so confused 
The rich blood mounted to her cheek, 
As he advances now to speak. 
His chivalry is e'er obeyed, 
E'en to this simple forest maid, 
With slight obeisance, he proceeds 
To give his thanks that she concedes 
A moment, and his humble right 
To beg forgiveness for the fright 
Which he had given her at noon— 

89 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Then takes his leave, but very soon, 

With supper o'er, he steals a round 

To where she's seated on the ground 

Beside the camp-fire, and he leads 

Her on to tell of all the creeds 

Of savage tribes, until at last 

Came Blackgovm; thus the evening passed. 

And many an eve and morn and day 

On wings of sunshine flew away 

Past these two children, projeny 

Of Adam, yet as one could trace 

Each was a type of different race 

So like in all that nature gives, 

And differed, but where art retrieves 

The unassuming, artless way 

Of Early Dawn, from the first day 

Had Pierie's admiration won. 

Obedience to, and duty done 

Her high ideals and nature's lore. 

Her eagerness to learn of more 

Or, newer things which he had known 

In that far country of his own. 

He told her how his mother died. 

And how he missed her love and tried 

Adventure— loved him none but she, 

And so he came across the sea 

And told her how the ladies there 

Wore evening dress and dressed their hair. 

Sometimes her own dark locks would braid. 

Or curl, as did the dark French maid. 

At nature's mirror in the lake 

Would urge her then a peep to take— 

And she, in merry child-like glee, 

90 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Would make the echo merrily 

Ring through the forest far and free, 

Her merry rippling laugh resound 

Against the rocks, then back rebound 

Sail o'er the silent sylvan lake ; 

Her ovm small hand in his he'd take. 

And felt that none more fair than these 

He ever saw across the seas; 

Or, join the dancers on the green 

With blare of Indian drum, and then 

With whistle merry, leave the set 

And teach her too the minuet. 

Exchanging thought he leads her on 

From out the dark his Early Dawn; 

Her superstitions drive away 

And Christianizes every day 

This savage girl, and so becomes 

A better man; but too succumbs 

Himself alas? to cupid's snare 

And loves ere yet he is aware 

This forest nymph; from day to day 

He cannot tear himself away. 

The change refined her heart elates 
And op'd ah, op'd, the plastic gates 
Of love to this unthinking swain, 
To ne'er, no ne'er' be closed again 
In joy, or sorrow, storm or sun; 
That love that here so light begun 
And comes unsought without behest. 
Will last till both are laid at rest 
In their last home. Oblivion's bourne. 
The comfort, hope, of those who mourn. 
Thus marches merry month of June 

91 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

To robin-carol, —pathway strewn 
With roses, follows in its train; 
July, all smiling, would remain,— 
But e'en must hasten its adieus 
For August whispering to the muse 
In garb of moonlit magic thrown 
O'er sylvan vale and marshes mown. 

September, then steals from the shade, 

And Pierie had a promise made 

That he return this month to the 

New mission with Menominee 

And on the eve before the day 

He starts, they carelessly must stray 

Up the east bluff; a path they take 

Where four hundred feet above the lake 

Two columns make of boulder-stone, 

A doorway high, o'er which is thrown 

The topmost two, so as to meet 

And form an arch and door complete, * 

On this great height they stand to view 

The setting sun, and Dawn so true 

To her wild nature, sings this lay 

For Pierie to the dying day: 

"Now turn Sunset thou to the distant west 

And see the Gorgeous king of day 

Ere sinking to his bed of rest 

In sorrow view the dying day. 

Trembling he sends up his rays 

A thwart the ever— fading skies 

As if reluctant to erase 

His brightness from her dimming eyes. 

* This is a natural arch called "Devil's Doorway." 
92 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

As sinks he slowly in the deep 
He casts one lingering look behind, 
And hesitating, seems to weep 
O'er her to darkness there consigned. 

Yet once more flash in feeble strife 
His glinting beams across the sea. 
As if to whisper ' 'hope and life 
Tomorrow will return with me". 

And now descends he in the wave 
Leaving the shrouded day alone; 
Serenely bends she to her grave 
Content to die when he had gone". 

"Your lay is sad, my Dawn — you sigh?" 
"Yes Pierie, yes; and so could I 
E'en as the day when sun is gone, 
Could die contented Early Dawn, 
If love proved false, or e'en had fled, 
Then Dawn herself, would soon be dead." 
He bids farewell to Dawn next morn 
But gently says he will return, 
E'en as the sun; then takes the trail 
That leads direct o'er hill and dale 
To the Menominees— fears them not; 
The mission only now he sought. 

So e'er it is since Adam's fall. 

The ' 'serpents trail is over all' ' 

We seek for happiness in vain. 

The deepest joy brings keenest pain. 

And now we know these days just passed 

Were far too dear and bright to last, 

93 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Say pessimism if you will; 

But time doth e'er these truths fulfill; 

Were love reciprocated given 

And joined on earth then earth were heaven. 

But scarce a week passed since the day 
That her dear Pierie went away, 
Windago joined the Sac's camp, 
With nothing of his ardor damp, 
And feels rebuffed when Early Dawn 
Evades his glance or, like a swan, 
Flees to the lake or far away. 
When he his homage dares to pay. 

He questions all to find the cause 
Until at length one of the squaws 
Who long had watched with jealous eye 
The Dawn and Pierie soon drew nigh 
And told the sacred summer tale. 
And in derision thus did rail: 
"Windago's clothes are not so fine 
His hair is course, his hands, like mine 
Are rough; he knows not how to curl 
Her hair, or teach the forest girl; 
And so he cannot take the place 
Of the new brave the French Pale-face. ' ' 

She thus aroused Windagos ire— 
So Jealous ere he can retire; 
To Kewaydin he goes to learn 
When this new paleface will return 
And asks Kewaydin if he knows 
He's with Menominees, his foes. 
Exciting thus Kewaydin's fears 

94 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

And stem resentment when he hears 
Perhaps Pierie is but a spy 
And now may be a fierce ally 
Of the Menominees whose tribe 
Has sent him here perhaps to bribe 
Kesheabinoqua and betray 
The Sacs to slaughter in a day. 
And if he should return again 
Kewaydin must be very plain 
And not allow the Early Dawn 
And young Pierie to be alone. 

Now Early Dawn Kewaydin calls, 

And tells her all, and it appalls 

Her gentle nature when she hears 

Windago's story; all her fears 

Are roused, and only for Pierie, 

His peril, his alone can see. 

Then when Kewaydin tells her where 

He heard the news, she sees the snare; 

And so his kinder self to move 

She tells her pure impassioned love. 

But then, he says, the whites deceive 
And flatter; she must not believe 
Pierie; he cares not for the squaw; 
He loves her not; Kesheahbinoqua 
Must give him up and go no more 
Alone with him on lake or shore; 
Her love was wrong; he'd ne'er decide 
To make the red-man's child his bride. 
And lonely now she steals away 
To weep, soliloquize and pray; 
Then weary Kesheahbinoqua 

95 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Lay down beside an older squaw 
Who in her childhood soothed her fears. 
In sympathy now saw her tears 
And heard her sobs, and who at last 
Her story heard, e'er night had passed. 



And as the autumn days went on 
Kesheahbinoqua grew more wan 
And wasted; hope deferred, each day 
She watched and waited for Pierie. 
Until, when near a month had fled 
On rising early from her bed 
One morn with bright and happy face 
She sees him at their trysting place— 
But why her pallor— why the pause ? 
He bounds to meet her, find the cause. 
But with a low and broken moan 
She turns away; he's left alone 
To ponder o'er what he had done; 
Perhaps another one had won 
Her love; and then a smothered sigh 
Tells that he had much rather die 
Than give her up; and now he thinks 
(And with the thought his spirit sinks) 
How cool Kewaydin too had grown— 
Had some arch-fiend some discord sown, 
To part him from his dearest friends ? 
Then all his energy he bends 
To seek the base transgressor out; 
For every sense within him scout 
The idea that Early Dawn 
Could have proved false or fickle grown. 

96 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

But all that strategy could do 
To speak with Early Dawn proved too 
Fruitless; for her word was given 
To see him not alone, and Heaven 
And Earth combined could not undo, 
Or break her promise until true 
She proved him to Kewaydin's mind — 
For she herself was ne'er inclined 
To doubt him; she, what e'er befall 
Preserves fidelity to all. 

So all the party stay aloof 

From Pierie until they have proof 

That he no treacherous design 

May have. Windago must define 

His purpose and for this does he 

Enlist the squaw Neekoosawee, 

Who had aroused his jealous ire 

And kindled in his heart the fire 

Of bitter hatred for Pierie — 

'Twas what she wished; for long had she 

In secret loved the pale-face brave, 

And she who e'er had been a slave 

To self, can in this scheme perceive 

A chance to win him and deceive 

Both him and Kesheshbinoqua; 

So she proceeds, this wily squaw, 

To gain the confidence of both. 

And though Pierie is somewhat loath 

He wished to hear from Early Dawn 

And has his secret from him drawn. 

But Early Dawn more wary finds 
In these two only foes designs, 

97 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

And guards her secret well; for none 
But her old friend, and she alone 
Must know, and she alone could tell 
The truth to Pierie if 'twere well. 
NeekoosaweCi with hard thin lips, 
Was savage to her finger tips; 
With mouth receding like a gash 
And faded, small grey eyes, v/hose lash 
Its evil gleam to hide was vain 
Her greatest joy was to give pain; 
Yet stoop to aught to gain her end 
Or, falsely fawn as though a friend; 
Her snake-like mission to decoy 
And charm the bird it would destroy. 
So this Neekoosawee must use 
All of her arts to disabuse 
The mind of Pierie that the Dawn 
Could ever love alone but one 
And tells him then that Windago 
Had loved and wooed her long ago; 
But she a heartless vain coquette 
"Would trifle with each one she met. 
To prove the truth of what she said 
If Dawn spoke with a brave, she led 
Him to believe that such was she, 
That e'en Kewaydin must decree, 
And did, that she go not away 
From out the camp at night or day. 

(But if you would a falsehood hush 
By living truth that falsehood crush) 
And though her words Pierie appall 
In not one place could he recall 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Where Early Dawn had ever been 
So bold and free as this with him. 



He thought her coy and bright and wild 
And brave perhaps this forest child, 
But modest, simple, bashful ever, 
And never loud, or acting clever. 
Her greatest wish to learn more 
Of him, the Christian faith, before— 
But now, could it be that he was blind 
And all those happy days behind 
Were but delusion ? All in vain 
He tried to quiz his weary brain 
To find one place where she had erred 
Or any to himself preferred. 

Yet he allows the other nigh 
Till she begins to fawn and sigh 
And hints that he might be the son 
Of her own sire Koshawagum, 
And then she boldly tells her love; 
But were she a saint above, 
Much less the crawling thing he sees, 
She could not his true grief appease. 
Nor even one iota wean 
Of his pure passion, which had been 
By Early Dawn won all unknown; 
His heart was her's, and her's alone. 

Windago, too, had played his part 
Would ever come, nor ever start 
Away from camp till first he saw 
Unhappy Kesheshbinoqua. 

99 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

But her old friend was not behind 
In strategy, nor was she blind 
To their deceit; the time had come 
When they must soon return home 
To winter on the Wisconsin, 
And soon Kewaydin would begin 
To break up camp; now must be done 
What e'er she could, to see this one. 
The paleface; he must learn the truth, — 
For ne'er did she mistrust the youth. 
(The true respect and love of few 
Exceed by far the cringing crew.) 
He sitting silently apart 
Received one eve, a sudden start— 
The low sweet cooing of a dove— 
He listened; for 'twas thus his love 
Announced her presence — but so low ! 
He waits to hear, ere he may go. 
Again the low sweet mournful sound; 
Then sees he also on the ground 
An acorn fall, not from a tree, 
But from a hand. He turns to see 
A figure flit into the wood. 
Then pause one moment where he could 
Perceive a boulder— disappear 
Behind it. Goes he without fear- 
But starts in anger when he sees— 
Not Early Dawn crouched on her knees. 
But there an old and withered face- 
He turns again to leave the place. 
But with a meaning look and tone 
She drags him back, behind the stone 
With ' ' Hist pale-face, you need not fear 

100 



Wandew ana's Prophecy 

'Tis as your friend that I am here; 

For, in a day or two we go 

Away and you are thought a foe, 

Windago loves the Early Dawn 

And calls you spy and squaw and prawn. 

So she can see you ne'er alone 

And ev'ry night her sob and moan 

I e'en must soothe upon my breast. 

Windago, Neekoosa, the rest 

Know not of this, my visit, nor 

Would I be with you here, but for 

The love I have for Early Dawn. 

And if they knew, then had I drawTi 

Their anger on me; but the squaw 

Her life for Kesheahbinoqua 

Has risked, that she might see again 

Her happy face so free from pain 

As when the pale-face came to woo 

And taught the dove the mournful coo. ' ' 

While Pierie listened she went on: 

" You wish to wed the Early Dawn ? 

Then ask Kewaydin for her hand 

Tomorrow, when upon the sand 

He walks, or after 'tis too late, 

Windago then must know his fate, 

Be there ahead of him and tell 

In your fine tones you know so well 

Your love for Kesheahbinoqua: 

And now good-night, good-night. The squaw 

Will pray that the great Manito 

Will bless and guard you from the foe. ' ' 

She softly, silently returns 
To Early Dawn whose poor heart yearns 
101 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

To hear one word from young Pierie, 
As crouched behind a large pine tree 
She starts with eagerness to hear 
What he has said: "Now have no fear 
For ere another sun has set 
Your pale-face lover will have met 
Kewaydin and will ask this hand, 
My Dawn, tomorrow on the sand, 
Pierie will meet your father, dear. 
So smile tonight and have no fear." 

Thus spoke her old and trusted friend- 
But ah ! the joy today we lend, 
Too oft is borrowed from tomorrow, 
And in return is paid in sorrow. 

Young Pierie now can scarce await 
The morrow morn to know his fate. 
With the first light of day he wakes 
And rising from his couch he takes 
A suit of deer-skin for him wrought 
By Early Dawn; for, as he thought, 
His cause would meet with more success 
If he appeared in savage dress. 
And thus attired he waits to see 
Kev/aydin on the beach. Then he 
Advances ; takes his calumet 
And hands it to Kewaydin. Yet, 
The grave and searching glance 
Kewaydin gives, checks his advance, 
For just one moment. He returns 
A look of honest fearlessness; thus learns 
The chieftain, too, this is no foe 
Unless his actions make him so, 

102 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

He smiling, reaches forth his hand 
To take the pipe, and with a bland 
Wave, deftly hands him back his own, 
And both their fears are overthrown. 

"What seeks my son, the pale-face here? 

Does he not know the Saukies fear 

He leagues with the Menominee 

Our enemy, or why did he. 

One moon ago, go to their town?" 

Kewaydin asks without a frown. 

"The chief is brave, the chief is wise; 

I see he listens not to lies, 

Or, if he hears, he pays no heed 

And follows thus the Blackgowns' creed. 

One moon ago Pierie went north 

But to the mission he went forth 

Where e'en another Blackgown stays— 

You fear him not, you know he plays 

Not false with these his best of friends. 

Nor to Menominee he lends 

His aid, for then how could the dove 

Be ever faithful to her love 

The pale-face? If she knew that he 

Could league with the Menominee? 

And now, my father, I must tell 
You that I love the Dawn so well 
That I would wed her with your leave, 
That you may know, I'll not deceive. 
When one more moon has passed away 
Blackgown returns again to pray 
With Saukies; then the Early Dawn 
Shall wed Pierie and both be one." 

103 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

"My son, know thou that Windage 
Has asked the same and comes he now 
To get my answer; so I tell 
You, both whom that I love so well, 
That I an eagle yester-night 
Saw soar so high and then alight 
In that pine tree on yonder shore 
On top of that high rock. Before 
Pierie or Windago can wed 
The Early Dawn, he must not dread 
The task, which I shall now assign- 
To prove your courage, my design. 

The one who first can bring from high 

Off that tall tree an eaglet, I, 

To him shall give the gentle squaw 

For wife Kesheahbinoqua. ' ' 

Now need I tell that both agree 

To try the task to reach the tree ? 

Which stood so high 'twould take one's breath 

To think of —one false step meant death. 

Pierie perceives upon the shore 
The Dawn's light craft and soon is o'er 
The water gliding— Windago 
In his, and neither man is slow- 
While Down is watching, all unseen. 
Their efforts : knows not what it means. 
Till now that they have reached the shore. 
She sees them climb the cliff where soar 
The eagles proudly o'er their young. 
Pierie is gaining and has sprung 
With one quick bound into the tree, 
And grasped an eaglet. She can see 

104 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

Him wave in triumph and descend. 

But sees she too, Windago bend 

And break the limb where on he stands 

Which throws him on the rocky strand 

Below a crushed and bleeding mass— 

One shrieking cry— but one must pass 

Her lips. Kesheahbinoqua 

Can scarce believe what there she saw 

And rushes wildly to his aid 

Nor, of Windago is afraid. 

Who thinking her Pierie was dead. 

His vengeance sated, wildly fled. 

Kesheahbinoqua calmly bathes 

His wounds and notes that Pierie breathes. 

Then joyously, in her canoe 

She bore him o'er the lake, then through 

The copse to her own wigwam door. 

While from her lips endearments pour. 

On bed of moss he lies so still 
She fears despite all strength of will 
The end has come, but Annung hears 
His trembling heart, and lulls her fears. 
Then quickly uses all her art 
And medic means she can devise 
To conquer death — till now his eyes 
Their lids uplift— then close — he sighs; 
But this the hope to them still gives 
The joyful hope, he lives, he lives ! 

When all her efforts had been spent 
For Oozhuskah, they quickly sent, 
The great conjurer knew all things 

105 



Wanedwana's Prophecy 

He surely some relief must bring 
To Pierie. Yet the days passed on, 
He knew no one— not even Dawn, 
Who helpless, weary, prayed and wept 
And still her ceaseless vigil kept. 

The choicest blossoms from the dell, 

The ones she knew he loved so well, 

Were brought and placed where he might see 

And breath their incense, finally 

One day— hope fled, she meekly bowed 

In supplication— half aloud. 

And while her supplications rise 

Pierie has opened up his eyes 

And all bewildered, looks around 

And feasts his eyes, once more, when found 

Upon his dark brown Indian love 

While faintly cooing like the dove. 

Each day increases Pierie's strength 
And each his love, until at length 
Ere days of Indian summer pass 
Once more, with his true Indian lass 
He roams the forest, strong and free 
And tells of homes across the sea. 

And then a ruby wedding ring 

Was bought, and then did Black gown sing 

The ceremony so long delayed 

For Pierie and his Indian maid. 

So there another feast was spread 

And forth another bride was led 

Like Annung, to another home. 

But this Pale-face's bride become. 

106 



Wandewana's Prophecy 

There you must leave them stranger rude 
Nor on their happiness intrude, 
Which lasted many, many years, 
And still their love, from Heaven appears; 
For natives said on each dark night 
In their canoe all dressed in white, 
Two spirits e'er glide o'er in space 
Which Saukies saw and named the place 
(E'er all its haunts they did forsake) 
The Spirits — now called Devil's Lake. 

Kewaydin and Annung for years 

Lived there, through changing joy and tears. 

Their sons in battle all were slain 

By those they sought, but sought in vain, 

To drive from out their forest home. 

And seeing all would often moan 

In accents wild: " Oh now we see 

Old Wandewana's Prophecy." 



107 



JUN 1^ 1905 



